They finally showed themselves. A line of hulking armadillo-humanoids pushed through the tall grass, scales clacking softly as their bodies shifted. Thick, overlapping plates covered them from neck to heel, forming natural armor tougher than anything the villagers owned. Their claws were long, curved, and glinted like razors in the gray light. Some carried crude swords and shields, though those looked more decorative than dangerous compared to the talons attached to their hands. They outnumbered us, though not by much.

  “Get ready!” the commander shouted, his voice booming across the field. His center unit surged forward and our flanks followed, boots pounding the dirt as we closed the distance. When we were about fifty yards out, several of the armadillo-creatures dropped to all fours, curled in on themselves, and launched forward in rolling balls of armor.

  A normal person might have panicked. I grinned.

  “I got this!” I yelled back.

  I planted my feet, loosened my shoulders, and gripped my bat. The first spinning mass rocketed toward me, fast enough to blur, but my body reacted before I could think. The swing connected perfectly.

  CRACK.

  The creature sailed backward like a baseball hammered deep into the bleachers. Another followed. And another. I batted them away one after another, the momentum sending several rolling creatures crashing into their own allies. Notifications flashed across my vision.

  Armadillian — Lvl 5 Defeated

  Armadillian — Lvl 6 Defeated

  Armadillian — Lvl 4 Defeated

  Armadillian — Lvl 5 Defeated

  Five, maybe seven fell before the rest realized their tactic wasn’t working on our flank. They shifted toward the other groups, but by then our forces had closed the distance, disrupting their charge entirely. Behind me, my soldiers cheered, and I felt their fear lighten, replaced by raw belief. The Armadillians had expected us to break. Instead, we pushed harder.

  Once the melee clashed, their strengths became clear—faster than the crabs from Floor One, stronger and far deadlier—but they were still slower than the projectiles and ambushes I’d faced from the booklings. Compared to that chaos, this felt straightforward. Predictable.

  I dodged a sweeping claw, countered with a strike to the ribs, then stepped aside as two soldiers finished the creature off. My blows targeted joints, knees, armpits, any weak point not protected by the thick scales. Each hit staggered them long enough for my squad to take advantage. I collected a few shallow scratches along my arms and ribs, but nothing serious. My higher Endurance soaked the impacts like they were inconveniences, not threats.

  A quick glance toward the center and right flanks showed they were doing just as well. Commander Hart and Lieutenant Chase held firm, driving their forces with tight, disciplined formations. That gave me the confidence to push ahead with my squad, rounding up stragglers and cutting down anything trying to slip past.

  The wave lasted maybe twenty minutes, though adrenaline made it hard to track. Eventually the final Armadillian collapsed, its claws scraping weakly against the dirt before going still. Silence settled over the field, punctuated by heavy breathing and the soft clatter of armor.

  Then a notification appeared, accompanied by another round of relieved cheers.

  Wave 1 of 3 — Completed

  Next Wave Incoming: 00:59:58

  One hour until the next assault.

  I exhaled slowly. We’d done it. Cleanly. No casualties. Just minor injuries and a morale boost the entire town desperately needed. Hope wasn’t just blooming anymore. It was spreading.

  I went across the battlefield to loot the monsters I had slain.

  Loot Acquired:

  Armadillian Shell x 8 (Common)

  Armadillian Claw x 3 (Uncommon)

  Back in the commander’s war room, the mood had changed. The frantic shouting from earlier was gone, maps were no longer being slammed onto tables, and soldiers had stopped pacing with tight jaws or trembling hands. Everyone moved with a steadier rhythm—still tense, still preparing, but grounded. Control had returned.

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  “Not bad out there,” Commander Hart said as he approached. “Thought you weren’t the right man for the job?”

  I rubbed the back of my neck. “Yeah. Guess I was wrong.”

  “You underestimate yourself, kid.” His voice softened. “I can tell you care about people. That’s a rare quality nowadays.”

  “What’s so hard about caring about others?” I asked.

  He let out a humorless chuckle. “You’d be surprised.”

  Before I could respond, he turned toward the large circular table in the center of the room. A 3D projection of the battlefield flickered across it, our forces marked in blue and enemy estimates in red. Commander Hart straightened and raised his voice.

  “Good work, soldiers. Things will only get harder from here. We completed Wave One cleanly, but don’t let that fool you. We still have two more ahead, so pace yourselves.”

  His gaze swept the room. “I believe we all have a clear idea of what our hero can do.” He gestured at me.

  Heat crept up my neck. I didn’t feel like a hero, not even close, but I stayed quiet.

  “Next wave, we expect several elites among their ranks. Do not try to handle them alone unless you are one of the designated leaders.” He pointed to his right-hand man. “Lieutenant James will take the right elite.” Then at me. “Mike will take the left.” Finally, he tapped his own chest. “I’ll handle the one in the center.”

  He paused, letting it settle. “If there are more than three, which is unlikely, do not engage one-on-one. Form groups of five or more and hold them until one of your leaders can assist.”

  Commander Hart stepped back. “That is all. Rest for a few minutes, rehydrate, patch your wounds, and return to your stations.”

  “Yes, sir!” the soldiers responded in unison.

  The room hummed with renewed resolve as everyone dispersed. Maps were rolled up, armor was adjusted, and the quiet clatter of preparation echoed like distant rain. I remained still for a moment, letting the weight of everything settle—elite monsters, leadership, people counting on me, people who could die because of me. I exhaled, squared my shoulders, and headed down the staircase.

  The tower door creaked open, and hot air washed over me as I stepped outside. I barely took one step onto the dirt road before someone called out.

  “Sir Mike!”

  A soldier jogged toward me. I turned, and my blood went cold.

  No. Not here. Not now.

  The soldier’s face came fully into view—Ben. Not exactly him, but close enough that my brain didn’t bother separating them. Older, sharper features, cropped hair, but the eyes, the posture, the half-smile—identical. My stomach twisted. The System did this on purpose. It wanted this floor to hurt.

  “Uh… sir?” he asked.

  I forced myself to breathe. “Sorry. No need for sir. Mike is fine.”

  “Right. Mike.” His expression softened. “I just wanted to thank you. If you hadn’t been out there, that battle would’ve gone very differently.”

  “Yeah,” I said quietly. “No worries.”

  He smiled. Not confident or heroic—just relieved. The same smile Ben used to give me after a rough baseball game, a quiet I’m glad you’re here. A smile that said he trusted me with his life.

  Something twisted hard in my chest.

  “Alright,” he said, stepping back. “See you out there, leader.”

  Leader. Great.

  He left to rejoin the others, and I stood there for a few seconds longer, trying to shove down the dread curling inside me. “Of course he’s in my team,” I muttered.

  Because the System didn’t just want this floor to challenge me. It wanted to break me.

  I tightened my grip on my bat and headed toward the battlefield.

  Everyone moved into position: shields locked, spears lowered, bows drawn tight. The timer ticked down in my interface, each second a muted heartbeat in my ears until it finally hit zero. The horizon shifted immediately. Shapes emerged across the field, first vague, then defined, then unmistakably massive.

  Ogres. Dozens of them.

  “Well, guess I can officially rule out any kind of theme to these waves,” I thought

  They charged toward us in heavy, earth-shaking strides, the ground trembling under their weight. Their skin was a bruised moss-green stretched across swollen muscle. Jagged teeth jutted from their mouths, and many carried clubs carved from entire tree trunks or shields made from mismatched slabs of rusted metal. The smell hit a moment later, a thick mix of sweat, dirt, and old blood rolling toward us like humid fog.

  “Steady!” Commander Hart shouted.

  The ogres roared back, guttural sounds that rattled in my chest. They weren’t subtle or quick; they were raw, overwhelming force barreling our way. Then the elites appeared.

  Four enormous figures broke through the green wave behind them. These weren’t just larger; they were monstrous. Their skin was a deep violet, almost black, and faintly pulsed as if mana ran beneath the surface. Bone-like spikes jutted from their shoulders and backs, giving them a silhouette closer to armored beasts than humanoids. Their eyes glowed a dim red, not wild like the others but focused and hateful, and each step they took punched cracks into the hardened dirt.

  I used Inspect.

  Ogre General — Lvl 10

  Ogre General — Lvl 10

  Ogre General — Lvl 10

  Ogre General — Lvl 10

  Four elites. So much for “unlikely.”

  I tightened my grip on my bat. Even with all my stats, skills, and gear, the size and force coming toward us made the weapon feel smaller than ever.

  “Charge!” the commander finally roared, and we surged forward to meet the storm.